Today He Belonged To Someone Else
by TheBreakfastGenie
Summary: When Gibbs is nowhere to be found, Samantha Ryan comes looking for him, and learns that there are things about him even she doesn't know. Kinda Jibbs. Gibbs/Ryan even though I'm not happy about it.


AN: I started this a while ago. I really don't like Samantha Ryan, but this story decided to exist anyway. I'm not sure I like the ending but it's not going to improve anytime soon so here it is. Reviews are welcome!

Today He Belonged To Someone Else

For a moment he'd thought the footsteps were _hers_, that all the circles he'd been running in his mind had finally conjured her in the flesh. But of course that was impossible. It was just Sam. He didn't bother acknowledging her. He didn't feel like any seeing any visitors. Except for one woman who he knew wasn't coming. She hadn't come last year, either. Or the year before that. Or the year before that. Or the year before that. Or the year before that. But then, he hadn't gone to her either, when he had the chance, and now he'd never get to.

"You can stop playing, Gibbs. I know you know I'm here." He still didn't answer her. What was the point? Nothing he said was going to make her go away, and that was really all he wanted out of her at the moment. "Jethro."

"Alright, you're here," he said impatiently. "Care to tell me why?"

"You didn't answer my calls."

"Funny, I never heard it ring." In the darkness Sam rolled her eyes.

"Right. I left you twelve voicemails. Am I really expected to believe you haven't even picked up your phone all day?"

"What mail?" Samantha sighed. He didn't know how to use his voicemail. Naturally.

"Look, Gibbs. You, _you_ of all people, takes a day off work out of the blue. That would not happen without a reason Gibbs. I want you to tell me _why_."

"And I'm supposed to believe you didn't already pick my team for information?" Sam let out another frustrated sigh.

"I couldn't find Agent David, Agent DiNozzo said something about not meddling in the affairs of NCIS agents, and Agent McGee was apparently swamped with work. Dr. Mallard's exact words were 'I am not the one you should be talking to, my dear,' and Ms. Scuito told me in no uncertain terms to 'get the hell out.'" Gibbs smirked a little bit at that. He couldn't help himself.

"Good for them," he muttered.

"What was that?" Sam asked, her brow wrinkling in confusion.

"Nothing."

"Mmm. I'm sure it was."

"Look, Doc, tomorrow we can play charades or whatever the hell it is you want to do. But today I am asking you to just leave me the hell alone." Sam's eyes narrowed. Information. At last.

"So it's something about today, then."

"Sam…"

"Well, I'd suggest you were grieving but your first wife died in February, not May. And I would think your people would have been more out-of-sorts themselves if this were the anniversary of Caitlin Todd's death, which, by the way, I am very aware is not for another four days. And I'd suggest one of your various failed marriages but I think the anniversary of a divorce would have you more angry than pensive. Which takes me through just about everything, leaving me back at square one with you behaving irrationally." Gibbs smirked in the general direction of his latest carpentry project, a rocking chair.

"There are things about me, Doc, that even _you_ don't know."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that, Gibbs. I knew about Shannon and Kelly from day one. And given the fact that you didn't tell your closest friends about them for fifteen years I'd say they could be considered your best-kept secret."

"You know, Doc, May is one of the worst months in the year. Mike Franks died around this time. You didn't know him, but he mattered to me. He died around now, a year ago, but not on this day."

"Only a year ago, the wound's too fresh. This is an old pain, something you've been beating yourself up about for a while."

"Looks can be deceiving, Doc." The pain didn't start when she died. It had been there for so long before that.

"So tell me. Isn't that supposed to be what I'm for?" Gibbs took a deep breath.

"You watch the news, Doc?" Sam decided to play along, even if it seemed irrelevant.

"Sometimes."

"May 21st, 2008. You watch the news that day?" _A year ago tomorrow_.

"Was there a particular reason I should have?"

"There was a story about a fire."

"Let me guess… the fire occurred on May 20th."

"In Georgetown."

"…And?"

"Huh, I expected the super-shrink to have a better memory than that." Sam was starting to get angry.

"Just get to the point, Jethro!" she complained.

"May 21st was the day Leon Vance officially took office as the director of NCIS."

"Wasn't his predecessor Director Shepard? The one who died…in…a…fire…" Sam trailed off as the pieces began to come together.

"Bingo," Gibbs muttered darkly, returning to his carpentry project.

"Oh, come on. That woman was a pain in the side of anyone who wouldn't give her her way, much like you. You cannot possibly tell me that you've been sulking down here all day because your boss died, what, four years ago?" Gibbs threw down his tools.

"I didn't lose my _boss_, Sam! The last three years maybe but, she was my partner. And that's not something I forget. Rule number one."

"So, your former partner died. I'm sure that was hard on you, but it was four years ago. In a house fire. It's not like she took a bullet for you." Gibbs winced internally. Taking a bullet for him was _exactly_ what Jen had done, even if he wasn't physically there. And he had nearly screwed that up for her, too, by taking one from Svetlana, but Mike had seen to it that that hadn't happened.

Sam, of course, had no idea how Jenny had actually died and he was going to keep it that way. She kept plenty of work-related secrets from _him_, and Jenny's last action wasn't something he wanted to share with anyone. At least not anyone who was still alive.

Silently, Gibbs stalked across the room, kicking up sawdust as he went. Sam coughed in dusty air but he couldn't find it in himself to care. The old drawer protested squeakily as he wrenched it open. He removed the paper without looking at it and returned to the other side of the room where Sam was waiting. He displayed the paper roughly.

"_This_, Doc, is the reason I didn't answer your damn calls." Sam looked at the sheet of paper. It was almost entirely blank, with only the words "_Dear Jethro_" scrawled at the top.

"Jethro…" she began, but trailed off, realizing she didn't know what to say. After a moment, she added "I don't understand."

"Neither do I. Because she never got a chance to finish this."

"And what do you think she was planning to say?" Sam wasn't entirely sure where this was going, but she was willing to wait it out.

"I don't know."

"I'm not sure I follow."

"Sam…" Gibbs stopped. This was just too hard. Again he crossed the room, returning this time with a box of photographs. The picture he'd left for Jenny had been only one of an entire collection. He'd hoped to find that picture in her house that night but there hadn't been time…

"Here." He gestured for Samantha to follow him to a dirty workbench in the corner. There he pulled picture after picture from the box and spread them out on the surface, like he'd done countless times for suspects and witnesses. "Here's our story."

"So you had an affair with her." Sam hadn't meant to be so cold but looking at her lover obviously so happy with someone else was bringing unbidden feelings of jealousy straight to the surface.

"I loved her," he whispered, anger and pain and bitterness all seeping into his words.

"If you loved her so much why let her go?" Sam retorted.

"She left me."

"So you're spending an entire day in this dusty old room sulking over the death of a woman who broke your heart?" Gibbs glared at her coldly.

"This is why I don't discuss it."

"Jethro, come on. You can't just leave me with that."

"She came back. As the director of NCIS. And I think… I think she wanted me to forgive her."

"Did you?"

"Not until it was too late." Sam sighed. It was hard to be glad that Jenny Shepard was out of the picture when her loss was clearly hurting him.

"And?" she prompted gently.

"And we spent three years lying to each other and now she's gone."

"Let me guess. The truth would have been that you still loved her." Sam was trying hard to be there for Jethro but it was easier to be angry at him, angry that she had two ghosts to live up to.

"Still do." Sam sighed.

"I see how it is. No matter how much you care about me, I'll just never be Jenny. Or Shannon."

"Dammit, Sam! I chose you because you're not them. Because I won't try to make you them. But I sometimes I need one day, just one day, for Jenny, because there were so many that I didn't give her. And that's not going to change." Sam closed her eyes. This was her moment of truth. She could wallow childishly in envy and self-pity, or she could be the woman he deserved.

"Okay, Jethro. I can live with that." She kissed him once, then turned on her heel and left. Because today he belonged to someone else.


End file.
